Strip, Dance, Strip
by His Spectacles
Summary: Harry gets a little drunk and naked. SLASH HPDM


**Dance, Strip, Dance **

**One-shot **

Disclaimer: When pigs fly.

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Call them celebration parties. Call them 'Let's celebrate because Voldie's in that great big bucket in the sky – only he's burning in Hell' party. Call them

'Promoting House Unity' parties.

But Draco wasn't fooled. He knew what these parties, done every Saturday night on every weekend since the beginning of term, really meant. It was a way for the older students to release pent-up sexual frustrations and get really, really drunk. They only called them celebration parties, or even a way to unite the Houses, so that the Professors would allow them.

"_It's a recreational activity to promote better House unity. It's a way for all the students to mingle with people other than their Housemates. Away from the usual pressures in life, there will be less defensive walls. Besides, isn't it justified to celebrate the peace we've just acquired?" _

Pretty words, indeed. But the truth was, everyone just wanted to get smashed. Smashed enough to maybe ask that person you've been lusting after for a dance – or a little bit of shagging in the corner. Merlin knew when they asked the Room of Requirements the perfect place for their party it gave them enough dark corners in case the couple didn't have exhibitionist tendencies – or drunk enough – to do each other in public.

Draco hated these kind of parties. Or actually, he would usually be there leering along with his Housemates at whatever couple was showing off, but Draco was too busy nursing his Firewhisky. And don't forget his broken heart.

It was mortifying, to have reached such a low level. Draco glared sullenly at the raucous circle of students in the middle, most of them more than half-drunk, playing Truth or Dare. It was a stupid party game, but the festivities would be incomplete without it. They were all having fun over there; laughing and daring each other because no one was actually fool enough to pick 'Truth,' while he, Draco Malfoy, was sulking in an armchair in the only nook in which prurient activities were not being carried out.

Draco wouldn't have come at all if it weren't for Blaise's insistence. Although maybe this one would be his last party, considering he was always so miserable, even when other people enticed him to those shadowy corners. The quickies were good, but not worth it. Definitely not worth it watching Potter flirt with his _fucking _girlfriend and disappearing from the crowd with her.

Draco was about a second away from leaving, watching in disgust as the redheaded Weasel female flirted outrageously with Harry, cooing and batting her lashes. It was enough to make him sick. There was a painful burning in his gut that Draco was not going to acknowledge.

He tipped back his head as he took a big drink from his Firewhisky, never taking his eyes off Harry as he laughed at whatever Weasel – the male one – was saying to him. Yeah, everyone was having fun, mingling and uniting Houses and all that crap. But not Draco. _No_. He was getting pissed, and he was angry and he was hurt, dammit. And the fucking loud music was getting to his alcohol-addled brain.

Weaselette was whispering something to Harry now, directing her eyes towards an empty armchair near the back of the room across from Draco, and she was blushing for effect.

Fuck no. Draco's had enough. He lifted the bottle and drained the contents, feeling the burn of the alcohol washing down his throat, mixing in the worse way with that burning in his gut.

High, annoying, hateful voice. _"Give it up, Malfoy; Harry will never go for you. You're a Slytherin, a fucking Malfoy, and even if you defected to our side, you'll always be nothing but scum to him." _Smug little grin. _"And besides, Harry just asked me to be his girlfriend. We'll be quiet about it for a while, so don't say anything. If you do, I'll tell Harry about a certain blond Slytherin's dirty little secret. Trust me, he definitely won't like it. Probably ruin that oh so tentative civility you have going." _

Draco slammed the empty bottle on the table. He was about to stand up when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He glared up at Blaise's amused face.

"What?" he bit out, trying to push away the other boy's hand.

Blaise released his hold. "Where do you think you're going?"

Draco sneered at him, getting to his feet. "Back to the common room, not that it's any of your business." But Blaise's hand returned to his shoulder and forcibly pushed him back down.

"What the fuck?" Draco snarled, prying Blaise's hand away and giving him the full Malfoy Glare of Promised Death. But Blaise was undaunted. Probably because of the Firewhisky he'd drank, because the glare has always worked before.

"Nah-ah, you're not," Blaise said with a wide grin. "Things are just getting interesting, Draco. I think you'd want to stay for it."

"Fuck you," Draco ground out, pushing Blaise away as he stood up, determined to get the hell out of there. His movements were a little careless, causing his vision to wobble mildly. Damn, he couldn't be drunk yet. What kind of lightweight was he, inebriated only after one bottle of Firewhisky?

He shook his slightly dizzy head and headed towards the door, pointedly ignoring the game playing in front of him or that the bottle was now pointing at Potter.

A hand suddenly grabbed the back of his shirt, jerking him backwards and he looked over his shoulder at Blaise, furious at being stopped again, when Blaise indicated with his beer at the circle in front of them.

"Let me go," Draco growled, struggling to get free.

Blaise shook his head. "Look," the black-skinned Slytherin insisted. Draco wouldn't, so Blaise placed his bottle on the table without releasing his fistful of shirt, and with his other hand, forcefully moved Draco's head so he was facing the group. Draco snarled, deeply insulted by this.

However, his attention was caught when Pansy Parkinson, with a shit-eating grin, said, "Let's see…I'm going to dare Potter to…strip for all of us. While dancing, of course." Excited whispers raced through the circle, along with the predictable protests from Granger and the two Weasels. But Harry just shrugged. It wasn't as if it was the most shocking dare given.

"All of it?" Smith asked, and he looked a little bit too eager. Everyone did.

Pansy was smug. "Certainly."

Harry laughed. "Certainly," he repeated, but there was something in his smile that said he liked the idea a little too much, too. Maybe he was just a tad too drunk.

Harry stood up, after smoothing over his friends' ruffled feathers that he didn't mind doing it (would enjoy it, even) and automatically, a new song rang in the air. It was loud obviously; with a gritty, sexy beat that Draco could feel his heart thumping in tandem to. God, he should just leave. He wasn't a glutton for punishment. Seeing what he can never have would only make it so much worse. But Draco's body wasn't paying attention to rationality.

He didn't notice when Blaise's hand released his shirt. Draco didn't try to flee though. Instead, he fell back heavily on his armchair, head spinning with alcohol and the thought of seeing Harry Potter's body. Blaise settled against the wall, beer back in hand, and smirking at him. Draco didn't notice.

Draco was close enough from the circle to get a good view, though those within the circle were getting the best. But Draco preferred his place best, because he could see all of it, as compared to those on the floor. They'd have to look up a bit, watching at a certain angle that wouldn't allow them to just _take in_ everything at the same time.

Potter stood in the middle of the circle, swaying his hips slightly to the rhythm. He was wearing a dark blue sweater and muggle jeans that fitted him snugly. His hair was in a mess, as it always was, and his eyes glowed green from behind his glasses. There was a provocative grin on his face. He was absolutely gorgeous and fuck, was Draco hard. He guessed that others were too. They were positively leering.

Draco's cock twitched as Harry gripped the edge of his sweater, tugging playfully at the material so that it momentarily clung to his chest. He was facing Draco's general direction and the people behind him realized he wouldn't be pivoting around soon and scurried over to where they could see.

Draco wished he had another bottle of Firewhisky. His throat was dry and he was hot. Hell, Harry hasn't even taken his sweater off and Draco was already achingly hard. He got harder at the thought of seeing that naked, naked form, so tall and fit, molded by years of Quidditch and fighting Dark Overlords into a perfect body of everyone's wet dream.

Finally, Harry slowly lifted his arms, carrying his sweater with him, hips grinding sensually to the beat. At the first sight of smooth skin, everyone took simultaneously deep breaths, licking their lips as they stared at the taut abs bared. Draco's tongue wanted to lave at the wonderful golden skin, to trace the ridges on those muscles, grip those thrusting hips.

Soon though, Draco's breath caught in his throat as Harry revealed his wide chest, completely hairless and that same golden hue, the small nipples pink and taunting everyone from their position.

To Draco, his entire world focused on Potter at that moment, who was swaying his hips to the song, not really dancing, just following the beat with a thrust to the right, then to the left. Harry pulled the sweater completely off him, his grin wider and his hair even messier as the sweater was removed, skewing his glasses on the process. Draco's heart accelerated and his fingers clenched on the armrests. Merlin, how could Harry look so adorable and so sexy at the same time?

Fuck, why was he with Ginny Weasley, of all people?!

But Draco's mind was going blank again, and he gasped a little in surprise. Harry had removed his glasses and handed it to Hermione, who was staring just a bit too intently at Harry's chest. Everyone else was, and they were too distracted by it to really notice when Harry directly met Draco's eyes, staring into him and grinning a little, as if he knew something, something really good.

Heat pooled low in Draco's abdomen as his eyes were helplessly staring into Harry's own. No one should have eyes like that, so green, so vivid, so _alive_. Draco was certain that Harry must be drunk, or partially drunk, but his eyes were clear, lucid, and molten. And the look he was giving Draco, hungry and wanting, was enough to make him come. Draco bit his lip, confused and aroused. Why in Merlin's name was Potter looking at him like that?

But then Harry's hands were moving again. Towards his jeans. Draco stifled a groan, reaching towards his own trousers, slipping a hand inside to release the pressure on his cock. Harry's eyes, still looking directly at him, flared when he saw this and the grin got wider, parting those red lips and showing his perfect teeth.

Draco's surroundings faded until he knew nothing else but his hand around his heavy cock and Harry watching him, stripping himself slowly. Draco was panting heavily, moving his hand in a slow grasp, lips parted. Harry was undoing the button on his jeans, eyes intent on the blond. The air between them crackled and it flowed over Draco's skin, heightening his awareness. Harry grasped at the zipper, pulling it down and the sound was terribly loud amidst the heavy beat of the music. Draco wrenched his eyes away and let them fall to Potter's groin; his pupils dilated and glazed over with lust. He could feel with every cell in his body that Potter was still staring at him with that same look in his eyes. The predatory, ravenous look just for Draco.

Harry's thumbs hooked on the inside of his jeans, slowly inching them down over his slim hips, so slowly, so very slowly that it was torturous and Draco wanted nothing more than to order him to hurry it up. There was an obvious bulge that Draco desperately wanted to see. His mouth watered at the possibility of seeing Potter's cock and his imagination skyrocketed as he imagined the thickness, size…taste…

Draco licked his lips, chest rising and falling quickly at every excited breath he took.

A smirk graced Potter's face, with just a hint of the inebriation the young man was under, as he bent his upper body as he pushed his jeans down his legs. But his eyes never left Draco's, holding them captive and lighting sparks within the blond, causing a fine shudder to race through him as his hand stroked just that bit rougher.

The crowd was lost to Draco as Harry, still bent at the waist, kicked his jeans away. Then with a sultry little smile, Potter slowly straightened to reveal his completely nude body to all and sundry but the look in his eyes spoke that it was mostly for Draco's benefit, and he wanted Draco to know it.

The whistles and catcalls and the majority of the crowd's reactions melted from Draco's ears and all he heard was a distinct buzz that roared in his ears as his eyes greedily took in the sight he was presented with.

There he stood, Harry Potter, Hero of the Wizarding World, the Golden Boy, Dumbledore's Favorite, and Seeker Extraordinaire, naked for the entire world to see. And fuck was Harry gorgeous. The light muscled build, wide chest and long legs, his angular face with the bedroom voice and hair. Draco wanted to pull Potter to a dark corner and have his wicked way with him.

Someone was speaking to Harry and he never took his eyes away from the blond. Draco's hand worked quickly over his dick, eyes devouring Harry's nude form, lingering on Potter's impressive manhood. Pansy was telling Potter something and he grinned, accepting his clothes as Granger handed it to him.

_Damn, he's going to get dressed again, _thought Draco with sharp regret. He bit his lower lip as he stroked his cock, desperate to burn the image of the naked Harry Potter in his mind. His face burned as he felt his orgasm building. Potter was tugging his sweater back on and Draco dimly thought goodbye to the delicious nipples as they were covered by the fabric. But he still had Harry's bits to stare at as he stroked himself. Potter was already slipping his legs into the tight jeans, though he did it slowly. Everyone was enjoying Harry put on his clothes almost as much as they did watching him strip. Potter did both so gracefully and tinged with sexiness that made each a treat to behold.

Draco's breaths were coming in short little puffs and he thanked Merlin that he was in a shadowy corner so that people didn't realize what he was doing. The music was loud enough to cover his soft moans too, though Draco felt that maybe Blaise knew what he was doing. The other Slytherin was standing just behind him.

Finally, Harry Potter was fully clothed again and donning his glasses but Draco didn't care because he was just a hairsbreadth away from coming. His hands moved quicker, fingers gliding across the smooth-hard cock. Draco licked his dry lips and raised his eyes to Harry's face.

Harry met his glazed eyes head-on, a knowing smile on his face. Harry sauntered back to his place while everyone else resumed their little game. Draco gave a little groan when Potter ran a hand through his messy hair. God, why did he have to be so damn hot? Why did he have to fall for fucking –

Then Draco came, clamping down on his tongue to keep himself from crying out loud. Potter had popped his middle finger into his mouth, licking at the digit before sliding it out and flipping Draco off, then winking at him. Then with a smirk, he sat down, picked up his bottle and continued with the game.

Draco rode out his orgasm, panting as he shuddered, and come on his fingers. Draco slid his sticky hand out, heart thumping wildly. Tears prickled his eyes as he felt utterly humiliated. He'd just jerked himself off while watching Potter strip and Potter knew what he'd been doing. Potter knew and he was Ginny Fucking Weasley's boyfriend.

Draco wanted to cry. His bastard father was dead but his life was still a bitch.

He took out his wand and did a quick _Scourgify_ before he jumped to his feet.

Blaise moved towards him, correctly interpreting the look on Draco's face but Draco shook his head and quickly made his way out of there. He took one last look at Potter, looking like he was frenching the beer bottle and laughing.

Then he left.

Despite the alcohol warm and fuzzy in his stomach, and his recent orgasm warming him up, Draco felt cold.

Incredibly cold.

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END 


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